


After Party

by Vera



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-07
Updated: 2004-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, I'm a fool for the non-Sync boyfriends. I admit it. They're my weakness. I'm told Chris's mohawk sporting guitarist is called Ray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Party

Chris gets to the cell phone by the next to last ring. He knows it's the next to last ring because he's been enjoying counting the number of times it rings the last - he flips his fingers one by one, squinting at them in concentration - the last five times it has rung. This time he chooses to answer. "Speak to me."

"Just been kinda beatin' off at my house." The caller's got Chris's voice down cold.

"What?"

"Tell me, Mr Kirkpatrick, exactly who are you beating off at your house?"

"Fuck, J, stop changing your number."

"Don't answer the phone when you're stoned. On second thoughts, do."

"'M not stoned. Tequila. Tequila, baby." He shifts around, getting more comfortable against the couch, leaning his head against the armrest. The body across his lap grumbles. The tv screen glows end-of-disk blue and at least one tequila bottle lies slain in front of it.

"I heard you rocked the house."

"You checking up on me, now?"

"You know we can't let you out by yourself."

"Fuck off."

"Hey, hey Chris."

For a minute, they sit in silence. Chris run the fingers of his free hand along the feathery edge of Ray's 'hawk, listening to Justin say nothing, listening to him be.

Eventually Justin says, "I tried to call earlier but your phone was engaged."

"I rang my mom."

"Mama's boy."

"Whatever you say, angel."

"Fucker."

"Asshole."

There's another pause, and Ray shifts again on Chris's lap. His eyes blink half-open and he snuffles against Chris's thigh. "Who is it," he says, or so Chris interprets.

"Justin."

"Hey Justin," he mumbles, falling back into sleep.

"Ray says hi, though he's not impressed enough by the Timberlake presence to stay awake."

"I love you, too, man."

Chris feels the phone pressing hard against his fingers.

"I know. Yeah."

"Okay, so see you in a couple of weeks, right?"

"Yeah. See you then."

"Chris?"

"Justin?"

"I wish I'd been there, man."

"Good night, Justin." He pushes the button off and flips the phone away. It lands with an expensive thump and clatter. He sees bright daylight gleam inevitably along along the edges of the heavy curtains. When he looks down, Ray is looking up at him, wide-eyed, awake. Ray grabs his head and pulls him down. The hard rub of Ray's rings against his scalp is like benediction.


End file.
